Powder Blue
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: For the sake of blending in, Rosmerta attempts Muggle clothing on her date with Kingsley. Somehow, no matter the outcome, Kingsley thinks she's beautiful.


**For Hogwarts forum, Assignment #3**

 **Home Economics and Domestic Magic, task 4 (Textiles and Clothing:** Write about a witch or wizard trying to blend in wearing Muggle clothing)

 **Slytherin House**

 **Word Count: 1124**

* * *

"What do you think?" Rosmerta asks.

Kingsley bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. She looks so proud of herself, and he would hate to hurt her feelings. "It's, um…"

Rosmerta smiles sweetly, her blue eyes shining brilliantly. "Do I look like a Muggle?"

His eyes sweep over the outfit she's put together. Plush sky blue pajama bottoms, adorned with smiling clouds hang loosely at her hips. For a top, she's chosen a baggy tie dye shirt that adds a pop of blue, yellow, and green. "It's very colorful," he says, gesturing at the black flip flops on her feet and the clunky neon plastic bangles around her wrists. "I'm not sure it's appropriate for the theater."

Kingsley tenses, bracing himself for the fallout. With a roll of her eyes, Rosmerta turns to face the living room mirror, sweeping her mess of honey curls over her shoulder. "It's Muggle fashion, Kingsley," she says. "You should know about that, looking after the Muggle Minister and all."

"And it took some time and practice to learn how to blend in," he says, reaching for a small pile of books that rest on his coffee table.. "These books helped."

She turns, brows raised. If he didn't know any better, he'd think there's suspicion in her eyes. "Are you suggesting that I don't know how to dress myself?"

Kingsley swallows dryly, shaking his head. Despite her bizarre outfit, Rosmerta is still beautiful. Maybe it would be acceptable at a music festival or a lazy night in, but the Prime Minister has given Kingsley tickets to some play at a rather posh theater. Unfortunately, Rosmerta would stick out like a sore thumb.

"Just have a look, Rosmerta," he says gently, placing the books into her hands. "Discretion is key, and we have to blend in well."

Lips pursed, she flips open the top book, quickly thumbing through the pages. Kingsley watches, hopeful. "I think I can manage this," she decides. "It's really sort of posh, isn't?"

Kingsley laughs. He remembers his first time in the Prime Minister's office. So many neat suits and ties, a sea of serious of serious faces. "You learn to get used to it," he assures her.

Rosmerta closes the distance between them, tossing the books carelessly onto the sofa. Standing on her tiptoes, she presses a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. "I hope I don't have to get used to it," she laughs. "I'm a barmaid, not an heiress. I don't do all these fancy dos."

"Do you need help finding something to wear?" he asks. "I'd be happy to help you out."

She shakes her head. "Don't worry. I've got this."

…

Kingsley takes a deep breath, smoothing his hands over his black suit before adjusting the tie. He leans against the fountain, listening to the soothing sounds of the water trickling down, eyes scanning the crowd.

It's been two days since Rosmerta assured him that she could find an outfit for the night. While he trusts her judgement, he can't help but worry. Blending in with Muggles can be tricky. Their fashion is so fickle; trends fall out of style just as quickly as they become popular.

"Kingsley! Kingsley!"

At the familiar voice, he glances up. A laugh catches in his throat, and he skillfully passes it off as a cough.

Admittedly, the outfit is infinitely better than the pajama and tie dye shirt combination from a few days ago. Rosmerta spins elegantly before offering a grand bow, happily showing off the powder blue tuxedo, complete with a yellow and green striped bow tie. "Well?"

"A- You chose a suit?" he asks. Never mind the fact that it that probably hasn't seen the light of day in a few decades, the decision for her to wear a suit at all is unexpected. "It's…"

Her perfectly painted lips curl into a smile as she takes a his hand. "That's what was in most of those books," she says, as though it's obvious logic. "And look! You're wearing one too! Knew I made a good choice!"

"Shacklebolt!"

He turns his head, swearing softly under his breath when he sees his Muggle boss. Kingsley's dark eyes shift back to Rosmerta, and his teeth worry away at the inside of his cheek. Part of him wonders if it would be possible to lose her in the crowd…

The moment the thought crosses his mind, shame burns his stomach. Rosmerta has made a tremendous effort to blend in with the Muggles. Even if her attire isn't what society would consider appropriate, she's proud of herself, and she seems comfortable; nothing else should matter.

Kingsley links his arm with hers, taking a step closer to meet the approaching man. "Prime Minister, may I introduce my girlfriend, the lovely Rosmerta?" he says, a grin quirking his lips.

The Muggle looks over Rosmerta, eyes narrowing in confusion. After several moments, he shrugs, letting out a deep, hearty laugh. "Brilliant. I used to have a suit like that when I was younger. Sadly, the wife made me throw it out."

Rosmerta extends her arms, showing off the suit a little more. "I don't much like the sleeves," she says. "Might start wearing it around without the jacket. Long sleeves tend to get caught in the cauldron when I'm brewing potions."

Kingsley exhales deeply, carefully pulling out his wand without anyone noticing. With a subtle flick of his wand, he casts a nonverbal spell, something light enough to just make the Minister's mind fuzzy so that he forgets any mentions of potions.

"Excuse us, Prime Minister," he says, fighting a chuckle. "We should get in before the show begins."

He wraps an arm around Rosmerta, guiding her along. She looks up at him, grinning before pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. "Well? How did I do?" she asks.

"Brilliantly," he assures her. "But maybe you shouldn't mention cauldrons and potions around Muggles. I'm not sure I have the authority to Obliviate all of London."

She smirks, nestling closer to him as they walk through the lobby. Her fingers gently brush over his bicep. "Are you implying that I'm chatty?" she asks, a playful twinkle in her eyes betraying her dangerous tone.

"Perhaps."

He gestures at their row. Rosmerta files in quickly, Kingsley close behind. Once seated, his eyes sweep over the theater. So many women in attendance are dressed in fine gowns and elegant jewels, yet Rosmerta still seems completely satisfied in her outdated tuxedo.

"What are you staring at?" she asks.

He smiles. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with the most beautiful woman in the room," he says as the lights begin to dim and the narrator takes his spot on stage.


End file.
